Rated M for Heterosexuality
by Twitch Hopeless-Savage
Summary: In a society where being straight is socialsuicide, Ron and Hermione break all the rules when they find themselves inexplicably attracted to one another despite knowing the consequences of their passion.
1. Prologue

**Oh My God! Heterosexual Love!**

Prologue:

Strong arms wrapped around Hermione's waist, a whisper of heated breath danced across her cheek. Delicate hands, slowly caressing the length of her torso, crept stealthily in opposite directions. One towards the soft patch of skin exposed between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her pleated skirt, the other towards pert breasts, accentuated by a tight sweater vest.

"Ginny," she moaned, parting her legs, yielding to the touch of her lover. A pile of bushy hair cascaded over Ginny's shoulder as Hermione bent her neck backwards, kissing the girl's sumptuously freckled neck.

"I have a surprise for you," Ginny muttered, letting her fingers trail past the waist of Hermione's skirt and come to rest. Thick, warm hair wrapped itself around her digits while Hermione gasped, spreading her thighs wider. "So open wide."

&

"Tighter," Harry shouted through the silk gag Ron had tied around his head. "I can still talk, mate." His pale back arched at the touch of Ron's rough tongue trailing up his bumpy spine as he slowly aligned his body perfectly atop Harry's tightly built frame.

"Just say when," Ron giggled, tugging on the knot until it was pulling back the corners of Harry's lips. "Or not."

Harry's eyes filled with glee as he jettisoned his body up, sending Ron flying into the air. The boy landed with a crash at the end of the queen bed, his head knocking hard against the solid oak bedpost. Harry rolled over, his body heaving with silent laughter. When his amusement subsided, he crawled over to Ron, who was rubbing the bump on his head furiously.

"That would have hurt a lot more if I didn't have all this fucking hair," Ron said, giving Harry his best impression of being angry. It was a poor attempt, but Harry found it funny. The gag forced him to exaggerate his smile, his eyes crinkling shut when he did so. Ron took full advantage of Harry's temporary sight impediment and leaped from his position, slamming his hands into Harry's shoulders, pinning him against the bed.

The kisses Harry administered to Ron's chest were slow and deliberate. If he went any faster, the passion he was feeling would bubble over into a premature mess.

&

Hermione's fingers dug into her face as she fought with Ginny's hands to slam her thighs shut, the intense pleasure that was shooting through her body was about to send her over the edge into unconsciousness.

Ginny pulled away from Hermione's crotch, staring up at the writhing face of her lover, teeth biting hungrily at swollen, red lips. It was almost too beautiful for her to handle, she could feel her heart bursting at the seams.

As she came, Hermione shouted Ron's name in her head, pretending it was his tongue that had tortured her to this exquisite orgasm.

&

His body bucking wildly against Harry's, Ron gasped loudly as his lover's sphincter contracted around his cock. It sent him over the edge, howls of ecstasy ripped from his lungs as his thrusts became short and quick.

In the throes of the most intense orgasm Ron had ever experienced Harry's body filled out and developed feminine curves. Tousled, black hair grew out and twisted into a brunette mess curtaining a pair of brown eyes that Ron knew would pierce his very soul.

"Hermione," he whispered, falling back onto the bed.

&

As their lover's slept comfortably in their arms Ron and Hermione both lay awake, hands caressing silky hair. This wasn't supposed to have happened. Neither could deny the attraction, it was a constant internal battle to forget the moment they had seen each other on the Platform their first year.

Leaning over their significant others Ron and Hermione placed a chaste kiss on their cheek and a sweet "I love you" in their ears. Letting heads rest on downy pillows both wondered if the other was thinking the same thing at this very moment, while an intrusive warning in the back of their minds told them not to give these feelings any credence, if someone found out about their feelings it would be the end.

Society didn't like heterosexuals.


	2. The Train

Chapter One: The Train

The morning of the spring equinox dawned almost reluctantly, rays of sunlight parting the clouds as slowly as was possible. Select inhabitants of Hogwarts were not so lucky in their wake-up procedures. Their house heads woke them all promptly at four in the morning so they could catch the Hogwarts Express back to London for The Lottery.

The Lottery was an annual gathering of all witches and wizards in the Ministry's jurisdiction who had come of age since the last equinox. At noon, the Ministry assigned each female a male companion who would be her "breeding buddy," as the Ministry fondly referred to it, for the entirety of her life. Since heterosexuality wasn't a common occurrence, it was the only way to promote traditional procreation amongst the masses.

Many women protested, saying that if they wanted to have a child all they needed to do was magically impregnate themselves and skip the unsavory act of fornicating with a man. The Ministry saw things a little differently, passing a bill banning procreation through magical insemination. Their view on the matter was that it was both the role of a man and woman to create life, to leave things to chance instead of letting a mother dictate the features of her child.

No one forced the couples to copulate; it was entirely at the females' discretion. Many would forego the experience entirely and see a muggle doctor about invetro fertilization. There were more than a few, however, that used it as an excuse to fulfill their lifelong desire to see what it was like on the other side of the fence. The rest simply treated it like any other medical procedure and afterwards went home to their husbands and wives and led perfectly normal lives.

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, along with many of their fellow classmates, were on the train that morning. Both Ginny and Harry had yet to come of age, so now they were plodding along the road back to Hogwarts to get ready for their morning classes.

&

"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked Ron, sitting straight backed in the seat beside him. He was slumped as far into the corner as he could muster in order to prevent accidental touchage between their two bodies. His cock was already on edge being so close to her, his nose lovingly taking in the scent of lavender wafting from the piles of hair that adorned her head. If they were to touch, he was sure that it would be an instantaneous orgasm all over the inside of his pants, and that's the last thing he needed on such a big day.

Of course he was nervous. There wasn't a time that he was having sex with Harry that he didn't imagine it was a woman that he was fucking. It wasn't necessarily Hermione every time, but her face masked Harry's more often than not.

_Oh, fuck_, he thought, feeling his penis begin to harden, pressing tightly against the fabric of his pants.

"I just hope she isn't ugly," he desperately laughed, covering himself up with his jacket. _Do not think about sex._ **SEX. ** _Shut the fuck up, brain. I do not want to hear it. _**SE… **_SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

"I wouldn't worry about that. The Ministry hand selects every pairing. They say it's completely random, but everyone knows they assign each girl a male that will compliment her so they have pretty babies, or not if the case be." _ Goddess, Hermione stop talking so much; you're going to bore him to death. _"And you are pretty cute. So I mean the chances of her being "ugly" aren't very high." _Real smooth, Hermione; because that wasn't at all awkward. I'm such a freak._

Ron almost choked on the air he was breathing. He knew she was just trying to sound all smart and bookish, but did she really have to use that word. It was as if the word was made of red dye; Ron could just feel the color rapidly seeping through his face. The only plus was that all the blood was now rushing away from his nether regions, for the time being.

"You're such a know-it-all, Hermione," Ron teased, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "I swear they are going to name a book series after you; The Encyclopedia Hermonica, not to be confused with the Encyclopedia of Harmonics." _Open mouth and forcefully insert foot. _

_See, he's making fun of you now. Why can't you learn to keep your mouth shut? Moreover, you shouldn't even feel depressed over what he thinks about you. You are a lesbian, perfectly content with your girlfriend. You have sex and enjoy it. Who cares if it's only when you are thinking about Ron? Repeat after me, I am not straight. I am a raging lesbian, happy to be with Ginny._

"At least I read, Ronald Bilius Weasley. If it wasn't for my know-it-all-ness you and your silly little boyfriend would have already failed out of Hogwarts."

"Mind who you're badmouthing, stupid breeder," Ron snapped.

"What did you call me?" Hermione hysterically, her words weighted as if she was shouting continuously at Ron. Terror and hurt lurked in the background.

"You heard me, fucking pervert. Why else would you hate Harry, unless you were lusting after me? Well, I have news for you, freak, I love Harry and even if we were the last two people on earth I would never indulge you and your sick fantasies." _Except that, you are in love with her and maybe, just maybe, she might like you back. Stop being a fucktard and wake and smell the pheromones._

Ron's words sliced Hermione's feelings into ribbons, leaving space for a breath of cruelty to fill her body. It was cold and calculating the way her eyes now fixed on him, an icy sheen rising to their surface. Skin turning white, frost crawled up her face as clouds of carbon dioxide ejaculated from her mouth.

"Ronald, have you ever stopped to think that you might be the fucking pervert? Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Do you want me?" She pressed her chest out, sensually sliding her hands over her abdomen, the particles of ice on her skin shimmering in the light like diamonds.

All the blood rushed back to Ron's cock and he no longer felt any anger boiling in his veins, just the pulsing torture in his pants. His eyes fixated on the inch of silky skin of her back as she continued to mockingly rub herself and quietly moan.

"I've had enough of this shit," Ron huffed, standing up while pulling his coat down over his crotch to hide his arousal. "I'm gonna go sit with someone else. You have a wonderful day. I hope you get assigned a guy that can satisfy your twisted urge." The compartment door slammed shut behind him.

Free from his oppressing anger, Hermione let herself warm up again, rosy blush lighting up her skin. However, when she watched his retreating back a twinge of regret wrenched at her gut, a strong sense of wanting to chase after him and hold him tight to her chest flooded her system. _You know what you said was true. He is totally infatuated with you. _

"Hello, Granger," greeted McGonagall, poking her head in. "We should be getting there in a few minutes. I just wanted to remind you that this… well, just know that you are not forced to do anything you don't want to."

"Didn't you fight it, Professor?" Her recent fight with Ron had piqued Hermione's interest in change.

"Yes, I did. The Ministry strongly urged Dumbledore to not hire me, but he found my behavior rather admirable."

"Why don't we like straight people?"

McGonagall sighed, "I don't know. It's stupid, but that's the way of civilization, someone is always going to be at the bottom."

"What if I wanted to level things?"

"Then I wish you all the luck in the world. It will be a difficult road, but I think you have the mien to make real change." McGonagall placed her hand fondly on Hermione's shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "I have an idea, when we get back to the castle I will contact some of my old friends and set up dates for you to meet them. These women made me who I am and you will need to utilize their strengths in order to succeed."

"You are an amazing woman, Professor."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Now, if you will excuse me I must warn your peers of their fast approaching fate."

&

Walking down the aisle, McGonagall thought about her days as a rebellious youth. It had been on this day about thirty years ago when her and her contemporaries marched on the Ministry, tape crisscrossed over their crotches waving sighs that said things to the effect of, "Choice" and "Down with the Ministry."

Back then, Minerva was full of hope for the future and a love for equality. The years had quashed the fight out of her, but the hope remained. It was now invested in the young woman sitting alone in a compartment, scribbling away on some parchment every idea that poured from her brain, down her arm, and out of the quill.

Ron was holed up in a bathroom, voraciously necking McClaggen, a Gryffindor seventh year. He was reinstating his homosexuality in the only way he knew.

"Fuck me," the older boy whispered, lifting his shirt off.

"You asked for it," Ron sneered, anger now aflame in his eyes. He was only mildly conscious of what he was doing at this point, all that was certain was it made him hot, and that was all he needed.

The train pulled into the station as Ron came, aggressively fucking McClaggen until he began to cry. There was nothing subtle and sexy about the situation, just overwhelming anger, and control.

"Take that, Hermione," Ron grunted viciously as McClaggen sobbed louder.


	3. The Walk

Chapter Two: The Walk

Ron was the last one off the train; stumbling onto the platform, sparing only a fleeting glance to the pavement as he stepped down. Little effort had been made to redress himself in a manner suitable for a visit to the Ministry. The buttons on his shirt were crooked if not missing; his bright red hair had the appearance of tiered flames crowning the top of a crestfallen face, and his underwear was a crumpled ball in his pants pocket. He had seen better days and very few worse.

McClaggen didn't wait a second after Ron came to throw his clothes back on and book it out of the bathroom. There would be red imprints on his thighs for days as testament to the disaster this morning had proven itself to be. All Ron had to show for it was a depleted well of anger and a heap of guilt that was threatening to crush him under its terrible weight.

Standing by the brick wall was McGonagall, foot tapping impatiently as Ron languished across the platform, pulling himself out of a stupor for two seconds to flash the Professor a shit-eating grin. "Sorry McGonagall, I had to make myself presentable."

Scoffing, she grabbed his shoulder and propelled him headlong through the entrance into a crowd of his peers all in varying degrees of anxiousness. As the bricks engulfed him, Ron was sure he heard his teacher mutter, "I can't believe you would do that to him."

Ron stopped dead amidst his classmates and felt the enormity of the act he had just committed crush him like an ant. Harry had never factored into his decision to fuck McClaggen or the guilt that came on its coattails. In fact, the only person he had meant to hurt was Hermione but in retrospect, Ron realized sex probably wasn't the best way to go about it. It was ideal that no one ever hear a word of what happened in the bathroom, especially since Ron had to worry about losing Harry now.

Cowering in the back of the crowd, Ron followed behind his friends as they exited the station and made their way up the streets of London. The couples in the group wasted no time in clinging tightly to each other, unsure if the consequences of The Lottery would be detrimental to their relationship. Mostly it was just the guys that need worry, since most men had a very jealous disposition the pressure of knowing your boyfriend is sleeping with a woman can sometimes become too much to handle.

For woman it was the exact opposite. The knowledge that a man had violated their beloved drove them closer together and formed an almost unbreakable bond.

It was an interesting dichotomy that made homosexuality preferable to heterosexuality. Men are better to cope with the boorish behaviors of their sex and women can connect on a deeper emotional level. However, this was just a blanket statement. It was just a matter of personality. Ron knew that if McClaggen's boyfriend found out about the train he wouldn't care because it was just sex. Harry on the other hand would probably implode and become an emotionless nothing. Then again, he was prone to do that already.

Eyes roaming over the large group Ron spotted McClaggen trailing behind a young man with bright pink hair, eyes bloodshot and swollen. Their gazes met for a moment and what Ron witnessed in the depths of the man's pupils caused bile to shoot up his throat. They contracted in fear, eyelids widened and still, stinging from the lack of blinking. What he saw in Ron that morning was enough to create a rift in his mind, leaving him slightly altered forever.

Ron had done that, with only the slightest of whims. Merlin only knew if Harry's reaction would rival the scene before him now.

It terrified him, the knowledge that lives could be shattered in just a stroke of a dick.

Turning away, his attention was stolen by Hermione as she strutted several people ahead of him, absorbed in a conversation with McGonagall. The sun lit her luscious brown locks, subtly bouncing every time her foot propelled itself off the road. Her actions were animated and excited, the way she got when an ingenious plan germinated beautifully before her.

Ron forgot he was mad at her and just wished he could be up there now, rolling his eyes sarcastically at her wild ideas that he secretly thought were amazing. Captivated, he spared not a single more ounce of energy thinking about Harry sitting back at the castle, brows furrowed in concentration as he copied the miniscule notes on Snape's blackboard. No loving detail got lavished on him, no prose, and no guilt. In that moment, Harry was lost to him forever; their emotional connection severed. Ron shed not a single tear.

&

"You're telling me that the Ministry had to actually stun you guys? That's ridiculous! On what grounds did they justify that?" Hermione became more indignant as the conversation with McGonagall explored new depths and brought to light unsettling flaws in the Ministry's conduct over the years.

"On the grounds that we were trying undermine the authority of the Ministry. He denounced us as anarchists and paid the Daily Prophet to smear us in a similar fashion to what Harry and Dumbledore endured last year. If I remember correctly, I was having an illicit affair with some man or another. By the end of it the only thing he had to justify was why action hadn't been taken against us sooner."

"That's so absurd! It makes me sick when I think about it, the way a reputation is discredited with the stroke of a quill."

Only she wasn't really that indignant yet, it was only at the build-up stage right now, and that in itself was going very poorly. Every time an inkling of self-righteous anger shot into her veins, the adrenaline released upon feeling Ron's eyes roving over her backside watered it down within seconds. After storming out of the compartment, the logic-based part of her mind kicked in and the epiphany that all of Ron's behaviors pointedly shouted that he liked her struck her dead in mid-step.

"McGonagall, I will be right back. I need to talk to someone."

"Of course, dear."

Falling back into the crowd Hermione felt bodies brush up against her, moving rapidly forward like a raging river nearing its dangerous pinnacle. Wading towards Ron, her eyes shifted to the right focusing on a couple hidden by the darkness of an alleyway. They were passionately kissing, wrapped tight in each other's arm. A door opened further down the alley backlighting them as they shot apart, eyes contracting with fear. A young man made a dash for it as his girlfriend stood there, wringing her hands, her hair curtaining an ashamed face.

Hermione's heart went out to them. Taking another step, she crashed into a sturdy body. Strong arms reached out to steady her discombobulated stance before she toppled onto the pavement.

"Thank you…" She looked up into Ron's face staring back at her in complete terror. Again she looked to the right at the girl and then back at Ron, whose gaze followed hers to the forsaken lover. She wasn't the only one who had been watching them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, still holding her tightly.

"So am I."

"For what?"

"This." Moving closer she let her body rest against his chest, head upturned. On tiptoes, her lips caressed his before pulling away, eyes watching for people.

"Let's go," Hermione said softly, taking his hand like a friend. "The group is getting away from us."

Ron allowed her to drag him, still reeling from the taste on his lips. The smell of her hair as it petted his face, the rhythm of her heart against his chest. He knew that if she wasn't pulling him along his legs would turn to jelly and he would melt into a puddle.

In the gloom of the alley, the girl's eyes followed them, tears rolling down her face. "May you find love and happiness," she prayed for them, hands disappearing inside the pockets of her coat. Taking a deep breath, she moved into the sunlit streets, heading in the directions of her girlfriend's house.


	4. The Descent

Chapter Three: The Descent

McGonagall led the students to the front steps of an old curiosity shop, generations of stories scraped into the thick layer of dust of grime that blanketed the warped, cracked windows.

"Your world will change forever beyond these doors." Read a sign hanging at an extreme angle above the entrance, the gold letters pealing away slowly, relenting to the inevitable final moments of life when everything becomes clear as your eyes flutter shut.

"That's fucking creepy," whispered a tall Ravenclaw girl, avoiding the sign as she shuffled into the shop. "You think the Ministry could have picked a less foreboding gate."

"There is nothing neither pretty nor clean about what we are about to be exposed to," Hermione muttered, loud enough only for Ron to hear her. "They treat us like show dogs, weeding out the hereditary weaknesses by picking for each male the perfect bitch."

Ron's stomach clenched tight, looking down into the fiery indignation that swelled up in the pupils of her narrowed eyes. "What are you planning, Hermione?"

"Your world will change forever…"

"That's not a straight answer."

"Shh…" Hermione held a finger to her mouth, eyes shutting as a small smile bloomed beneath her finger. "You will see in time."

_And you will like it. We both will. It's the only way I can be with you the way I want to._

"How much time? Hermione…"

_He's so cute when he begs._

"Can I have your utmost attention?" McGonagall's said gravely, the intonations of her voice displacing the particles of dust that were already settling upon the students who now watched her, eyes unwavering, waiting; some for a last second pardon from the Minister, others anticipating with excitement the sacrifice in the name of their nation.

"I'm glad to see I needn't have said that twice. It means you all understand the enormity of what you are about to undertake."

_You've got to be kidding me._

Hermione laughed sarcastically, arms crossing as her brow furrowed.

_Christ_, Ron thought, _now you are never going to get her to shut up, great going Prof._

"Undertake?" She interjected, taking the simple glance McGonagall bestowed upon her as permission enough to talk. "That would require having a choice in the first place."

"Miss Granger, this is neither the time, nor the place. It is your choice whether or not you are willing to breed with your chosen partner." The deputy headmistress said this slowly from between lips so tightly pressed together they had become the same pale color of her face.

"Why can't I choose my own "partner" to "breed with"? I mean, if we have a choice in the matter, why in the world would they have instigated the stupid lottery in the first place?"

"You are the first student to actually ask that question," McGonagall beamed rather obviously, despite her best efforts to remain completely impartial.

Everyone shifted nervously on their feet, eyes roaming to the dilapidated walls of the curio shop. The rapt attention McGonagall wielded only seconds before dissipated with a single word from Granger. Although one ear was pointedly listening to the two, not a soul would openly pay credence to Hermione, for fear of egging her on.

Ron was alone in his blatant ardor of the words that flowed like honey from Hermione's lips. He would later pretend to be annoyed with it, but that was only when he was face to face with her; it could be no other way, he loved her too much.

_You love her so much that you raped McClaggen imaging her face. That's real love for you; always willing to sexually assault your wife. _Shove it._ Just look at him, dejected in the corner. _ I said, 'Shove it.'

This didn't stop him from stealing a look at Cormac; his finger lazily skimming the rim of an empty vase the same way it touched Ron's lips seductively an hour previous in the cramped bathroom of the train.

&

Compartments became a continuous blur as Ron dashed down the narrow corridor, his feet thumping dully against thick, green carpet. A low hum was all that remained of the voices of his classmates; his ears cottoned by the dead noise. As if by providence, Ron came to a stop when a rapid clicking invaded his muteness, trailed by a wall of smoke.

Cormac stumbled out of a compartment, a joint hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, cutie," he giggled, and the rest was history.

&

Ron found himself transfixed with the repetitive circular motions McClaggen's finger made, everything else became a haze as his eyes focused decidedly on the movement. Cormac looked up, the dead look in Ron's eyes making him jerk backwards, tugging the vase off the table.

"Shit."

The crashing sound of it breaking cast out a string, hooking the eyeballs of all the students and dragging them onto the bent figure of McClaggen, prodding the glittering pile of destruction and muttering "reparo" under his breath.

As Ron watched the futility of the man's act a ghost image of Hermione appeared behind him, staring down with pity and anger.

_You fucked up good, Ron. You are seeing fucking visions now. This is what it is to be like Harry, all crazy like. Isn't it great?_

She leaned down and whispered in the Gryffindor's ear, "He didn't fuck you. He let his rage do that to you. Let it break your insides, shatter your soul, like that vase."

"Don't bother fixing it, McClaggen," the professor said, only paying him the slightest of glances. "It's just an illusion, nothing can fix it now."

The mirage-Hermione's eyes pierced Ron's gaze fixedly, branding into his mind the image of a vase full of blood sitting inside McClaggen shattering, crimson seeping through the pores of his skin.

"Only an illusion…" mirage-Hermione muttered, quivering out of existence.

_CRACK! Hear that? That is the sound of your last shred of decency breaking in half. You are now officially a bastard. _

"No more questions, Hermione," McGonagall added quietly, touching Hermione's arm. "Everyone is scared enough; there isn't any need to frighten them any more."

Granger nodded, all the muscles in her body relaxing simultaneously. She had been too hasty in attacking McGonagall, especially knowing her past with the Lottery.

The shop began to shake violently then, dust raining down over the stiff bodies of the students. Slowly the daylight began to disappear from the windows, replaced by a stony darkness as the building descended beneath the streets of London.

"Are you okay?" Hermione appeared at Ron's side, her face inches from his. Her reflection glaring back at her a hundred times over in the beads of sweat that rolled abundantly down his pale face.

I have to tell her, I feel awful_. You don't owe her the truth. The only person who deserves it is Harry; you've betrayed him countless times. Every time you think about her, you are fucking him over. You aren't in a relationship with her, she kissed you once. That doesn't mean a fucking thing. _It means everything. _Do you even regret how bad Harry is going to get hurt?_

Nothing, Ron refused to answer himself at this point. "I'm fine," he told Hermione, grasping her hand secretly in the dark. "Perfectly fine now."

For a few minutes they stood, enjoying each other in silence. Two silver pinpoints watched this with shock, quickly replaced with malicious intent.

"Bingo," muttered a voice, the metallic sheen of their eyes now doused.

As the shop ground to a stop on the marble floor of the foyer, their hands fell apart; content with their time spent together. Light flooded the dusty interior. Pupils dilated, the students stared at the door as it silently open, the entryway framing the controlled chaos that was the Ministry of Magic.

A huge banner hung from the ceiling reading, "Welcome to The Lottery." Scribed beneath the greeting were the words, "Survival through Tradition."

All the activity reminded Hermione of a circus; the excited fervor, the posters, everyone in their best robes talking animatedly about this year's batch of new adults. As the students exited the shop, the scrutinizing eyes of all the wizards looked them up and down, picking out for them potential partners out of the collected group of all the participants from all over the country. Bets were placed, coins exchanged, numbers written secretly by quick quote quills hidden in the pockets of men.

"Let the madness begin," McGonagall, sighed, ushering them over to the registry table.


	5. The Lottery

Dedicated to Erika! I miss you, you singing ice-cream person. 3

Chapter Four: The Lottery

After registering, the contestants took a seat in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by a wall of bleachers bisected on either side by a large platform and the main entrance where the sightseers were now queuing. Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour leaned on his cane at the back of the stage, in the shadows of the overbearing bleachers watching the young faces as they settled down into the purposefully uncomfortable folding chairs.

He wanted them to take this seriously; it wasn't a stupid game, as they foolishly believed. Rufus' partner the Lottery Director Stan Oberst sidled over, carrying a small silver box in one hand.

"Hey gorgeous," he whispered, lightly kissing the Minister's scruffy cheek. "Almost show time?"

"Open up the gates now. And remind Security to watch for any unusual behaviour, I don't want a repeat of last year's incident."

"Yes sir. Here's the box."

"Thank you." Taking the box from his lover's hand, Rufus allowed their skin to caress for a single second.

As Stan retreated through a door in the back of the stage, the Minister performed a rough check-out of all the students sitting straight backed, dead silent and prickly. In the front corner were two girls, hands clasped tightly together, their heads resting on one another.

_This isn't the end. You will make it through this just fine. _

With affection and subtlety, Scrimgeour projected the thought into the minds of all the contestants as a wave of spectators began to fill the stands. Eyes softened and bodies relaxed as much as the chairs allowed, the couple in front kissed each other lovingly on the lips and knew it would be okay.

"Will we?" The voice was barely distinguishable over the clamour of the crowd, but it got the Minister's attention. From the floor of the foyer a young women watched him, her brown eyes full of suspicion.

Hermione Granger sat reclined in a squashy, red armchair that she had conjured. Ron was in one identical, chatting with the person next to him about the Chudley Canons. It was only out of the corner of his eyes that Rufus saw the chairs, so he wasn't entirely sure if they existed, but the smug look on Hermione's face was enough to erase any doubt he had.

Sighing, he forced himself to ignore her, blindly hoping that the ceremony would go off without a hitch. _If you can't see it, there is nothing there. Stop worrying; she is just a smartass teen. _

As silence settled over the bleachers, the Minister of Magic hobbled up to the podium, setting the silver box on the table at his side. The scarred grimness of his face, framed by limp greying hair grabbed the attention of his people better than a loud noise ever would. He didn't even bother using a spell to project his voice.

"You, my fellow wizards and witches, sit before me as countless others have, on the threshold of one of those life-defining moments people always talk about. Today you will be assigned your breeding partner, with whom you will have the choice of copulating with in hopes of conception when the time comes. It is up to the female's discretion whether or not she wants to have a child, and she and her partner are given full legal rights of the child at the time of its birth, unless other arrangements are set up at the mother's request."

The Lottery has come under a lot of fire in recent years for being archaic and dictatorial; people are questioning why they have no choice in the matter. Our response is that you have the choice to participate; this is done for the convenience of the woman. It will be at Camp that you will spend every waking minute with each other, building trust and an unbreakable bond so you are fully comfortable with each other."

I will now turn you over to Stan Oberst Lottery Director. Good luck."

The Minister hobbled to the side of the stage, placing himself in a high-backed chair, from which he could oversee the proceedings.

"Thanks, Minister." Stan Oberst was a willowy man, distinguished grey hair like frosting atop his pale face. Milky blue eyes stared blankly forward, the corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. The worry line running across his forehead compressed in on itself, converging in the middle, widening a circular shape, and sinking back into his head. Birthed from the loins of his mind, a sapphire blue eye rolled into the hollow focusing on the perturbed auras of the young adults seated before it.

"Disturbing, huh?"

Those seated in the stands laughed uncomfortably; no matter how often they saw it, the eye still left most with feelings of anxiety and guilt.

"It's kind of useless really, I'm still blind. All it's good for is seeing who you are past all the superficialities, which comes in handy when separating you into pairs."

_This is worse than I thought. _ Hermione sat up in her chair, teetering on the edge, fingers digging into the coarse fabric. Supplanting the momentary shock of witnessing an eye sprouting from the centre of a man's forehead, a feeling of anger washed over her, trouncing all other grievances in leaps and bounds.

The sudden change in her aura alarmed Oberst, who let the words fall dead in his mouth. With eerie precision and control, he focused his eye right on her, a cloud of red light exuding from her being and smothering those around her. All they felt was a small shiver run down their spine, but it was disquieting.

"Hermione Granger…" he breathed, placing an elegant hand atop the silver box on the table beside him. Vines bloomed from its façade, intertwining gracefully with his fingers, creeping up the sleeve of his arm. The only way to track their movement was the subtlety with which the vines disturbed Oberst's clothing as they travelled up his arm.

"You'll be first." The voice echoed throughout the room, though none could testify that his mouth actually moved from the wry smile eerily frozen on his face. There was a collected inhalation of breath, everyone excited by the sudden start of the proceedings.

Breeching his collar, the threads of silver twisted around his neck and up the back of his head, uniting at his third eye and squirming around it to its backside where they melded with the optic nerves. Dust particles rose through the top of the box and began to swirl in a large shape above it, slowly taking the shape of a very happy looking Hermione, waving pleasantly to the collected masses of the room.

The entire time Hermione had sat in fuming silence, waiting for the perfect time to unleash a barrage of verbiage on her contemporaries. The more she saw of The Lottery, the more she knew it violated every sense of being that she was aware of in herself. Looking into a person, without permission, in accordance with a superficial ceremony was borderline rape.

"Hermione Granger," Oberst repeated, closing his normal eyes and breathing in deeply the aroma of her. "A very smart young woman, with more potential than anyone will ever choose to recognize. You are going to be an interesting one to match. Are there any boys that are as good for you as the woman you are with now?"

"Yes."

Hermione stood up, her hand planted on Ron's shoulder, whom was now trying to sink away from all the eyes now staring right at the pair.

Oberst's eye fluttered open, the image of Hermione waving to everyone flickering dangerously. "Oh?"

"Ronald Weasley, sir."

Stan gave the red-haired young man a quick look over with his eye, shaking his head sadly. "He is not good enough for you. Not even on the same planet. You are not a good match."

"But what does it matter if I won't even give the guy you match me with the time of day. I'll just go home to my girlfriend and let him go home to his lover. Bonding camp would be a waste of time."

Scrimgeour stood up rapidly, loosing his balance slightly. Slamming his cane onto the wooden platform he regained composure and the ears of all those gathered. "You dare question what we are doing here?"

"You dare to force me to participate?"

"You have every right to refuse to breed with your partner, but only after camp."

"Why can't I choose here and now whether or not I want to go to camp? Why can't I say no?"

"That's not the way things are done!"

"Then enlighten me… Voldemort."

The name shattered the uncomfortable silence in which everyone sat, now breaking out into gasps of shock and anguish. Shouts of outrage began to fill the room, people disgusted with Hermione for destroying the sanctity of the ceremony and the Ministry by using such vulgarities.

Hermione's eyebrow slowly raised in arrogance as the Minister stood there, hand gripped tightly on his cane.

"I gave the better years of my life combating him and his followers. I have had more neglected partners leave me than I ever want to recall." Rufus' words were terse and strained. "I have watched my friends die at his hands. You have no right to imply that I am the same man he is."

Oberst watched the anger fade from Hermione's aura, replaced by regret.

"Please leave now, Miss Granger; both you and Mister Weasley. I will concede to your request, as long as you agree to attend bonding camp without a fuss," the Minister said, guarding his emotions once more.

Humbled, Hermione nodded shortly.

"Come on, Ron."

He stood up and followed her through the gauntlet of gazes. Walking out the front gate, Hermione turned around and stared right at Stan, who was smiling just for her.

&


	6. The Reckoning

Chapter 5 – The Reckoning

Walking back towards the curiosity shop Ron couldn't help but notice that inside the grandeur of the Ministry the store lost the dusty mystique evident on the sunlit streets of London. Instead, it looked like a tired, grey hovel patiently awaiting the wrecking ball.

_Time forgot about it, _he thought sadly, reaching for the door handle. Beneath his light touch, the entire building dissolved into a tornado of dust and ash, rushing rapidly in a shower of sparks. At the epicenter, Ron could see the outline of the phone booth so familiar to him.

A wizened guard laughed, sounding like gravel was jammed down his throat. "Get kicked out of the Lottery?"

"I chose to leave," Hermione said indignantly, though the conviction in her voice was shaky.

"That's funny, little miss. Your cute friend looks guilty enough for the lot of you," he leered at Ron, giving him an over exaggerated wink. "You can't fool me, see this every year. You know what happens to those girls, they all turn out to be big heteros. Ironic, huh?" Chuckling, he shuffled away to his post leaving a much-violated Ron and harassed Hermione behind.

"I'll show you a big scary hetero," Hermione responded darkly, grabbing Ron by the neck of his shirt and pulling his lips against hers. The old guard's eye widened as he choked on his laughter.

"Hermione," Ron sputtered, pushing himself away, "Don't be gross."

The guard laughed even harder this time, his old dry chuckle grating on Hermione's pride. "What a poor freak, can't even get the cute lad to like her."

In a tiff, she dragged Ron into the phone booth and shouted at it to go topside. As they slowly ascended through the layers of terrain and concrete, Hermione screamed at Ron.

"How dare you embarrass me like that? Not only did you keep conveniently quiet through the Lottery you rejected me in front of that guard. Did that kiss in the street mean so little to you?"

"It meant a lot to me," Ron snapped, taking the young woman off guard. "But it doesn't mean that I'm willing to thrust myself out into the world as a heterosexual. I don't even know if I'm straight, I know I like you a lot, but I love Harry a lot too and I don't want to leave him like this."

_Coward, you don't give a fuck about Harry and you lost the right to use him as an excuse the moment your cock slipped into McClaggen's ass. _

Hermione didn't get a chance to retort as the phone booth grinded through the final layer of cement, sunlight flooding its interior. They stumbled out, not looking at each other.

"I don't feel like waiting for everyone else, it could be hours before they surface," Hermione finally said in a terse manner, pulling out her wand. Holding it straight into the air, she stepped back against a shop wall as the Knight Bus tore into the small lot, nearly missing Ron who was still standing in the center of everything looking thoroughly annoyed.

They both boarded shelling out the fee, Hermione disappearing to the top level while Ron took a seat right behind the driver's seat, bracing himself as the bus thinned out and merged with London traffic, weaving in between the muggle automotives.

&

Hermione reappeared, as Hogwarts grew larger on the horizon, the silhouette of the turrets contrasting against the bright spring morning. Having napped for the majority of the trip, she was furiously rubbing the sleep from her eyes, falling into the seat beside the door. Ron watched her lovingly in the moments when it took her eyes to refocus to the light, blinking violently she looked up and Ron's gaze quickly changed into one of annoyance.

Sleeping had calmed her nerves. However, Ron had sat up in dangerous silence, trounced about for an hour, letting all his anger stew.

"I'm glad you could sleep after the stunt you pulled back there," he hissed venomously, bouncing up into the air as the bus hit a bump in the road.

Sighing, Hermione held tight onto the arms of her chair, eyes lowering in disappoint. "I didn't mean to drag you into this, Ron. But if we are going to have any kind of relationship in the future you have to be able to handle me and all my little quirks."

"Quirks?" Ron laughed. "You made a fool out of both of us in front of our classmates, the Ministry, and a whole bunch of other wizards on top of it. Maybe you can handle the fact that you will always be looked at as 'the girl who got kicked out of the Lottery,' but I prefer to not have that hanging over my head."

"You make up a lot of bullshit, Ron. I don't think I've once heard you say anything about what you were genuinely feeling, just random rants about how I've screwed everything up."

The bus came to a sudden stop.

"I don't feel anything, Hermione. There is too much going on inside me to sort the emotions out.

&

Harry was lounging on his bed when Ron swept into the dormitory, quickly ripping off all his clothes. He stood at the center of the room, the sunlight illuminating his white skin until it shone like the moon.

"Am I beautiful?" he asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

"You're gorgeous," Harry responded silkily, shutting his textbook and smiling up at Ron's body, in a similar awe to that of the day they first made love.

"_Will you love me forever?" Harry whispered._

"_Even longer that that."_

"Stop staring at me with your cock!" Ron shouted, shaking his red hair violently, catching is afire in the light of the day. "When you look at me, really look at me, who do you see?"

Sitting up, Harry felt his face crease with a frown. The hard-on that had been growing in his trousers quickly wilted. "I see a… a…" The words that were perfect in his head were having difficulty enunciating themselves properly.

He saw his everything, the man he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. When he saw Ron, it felt like nothing had existed before that moment.

"Because when I look at myself in the mirror all I see is a pale, skinny asshole. I'm devoid of life, Harry. I don't exist within myself; it's only when I look at someone else's faults that I see me."

Pausing for a second, Harry realized that most of what Ron just said went right over his head. He got up from the bed, taking a step toward his lover.

"Don't touch me," Ron muttered, backing up and tripping over one of the shoes he had laid strewn on the floor.

Sprawled on the floor, red hair cascading over his face, Ron sobbed uncontrollably, wiping his eyes furiously with the back of his hands. His positioning was awkward, legs spread out, the hard wood floor cold against his ass.

Harry stood there, unsure of what to do or what was going on. His boyfriend had emotionally disintegrated before his eyes, when this morning they had woken up to the wonderful spring morning, exchanged love-filled kisses and told each other this was forever, as they always did.

It didn't seem like forever now, Harry almost felt the mortality of their relationship closing in on him.

"Ron, what happened at the Lottery?" A very banal question, but Harry true to human from quickly reverted to being shallow as soon as something threatened his way of life; best no to think of such things, out of sight out of mind.

Choking on his sorrow, Ron stared up at Harry with bloodshot eyes and couldn't believe that he had ever wanted to cheat on this man. They were perfect together, no drama, no unnecessary fighting, there was nothing kinetic about their chemistry, but it was safe and comfortable.

When Ron closed shot his eyes, the last few tears squeezing out between the lids, he visualized Hermione and Harry standing in front of him, both in tawdry garb. Focusing on Hermione, he fought the desire that rushed through his body and whispered a mantra, banishing her from his thoughts. Slowly, she faded into nothing, leaving Harry there, smiling brilliantly, but with one eye cast over his shoulder, watching behind him.

A darkness was making it's way towards them, and as it reached the brink of the dormitory Harry smiled at Ron, whispered, "I love you," and turned to face the encroaching evil, letting himself be consumed. Ron sat their alone, and he knew the choice he had to make. If he chose Hermione, Harry would face Voldemort with nothing to come back to. While he wasn't in love with him, he did love him, and it would hurt Ron if Harry purposefully allowed himself to die because he no longer had his love.

So, with much guilt, Ron opened his eyes, wiped away the remnants of sadness from his freckled cheeks, and smiled weakly at Harry, while Hermione kicked violently at the walls of his heart, trying to get in.

"Sorry, about that," he chuckled, "I'm just tired and Hermione caused a scene at the Ministry, getting us both kicked out. It was kind of embarrassing and I guess I just let it overwhelm me."

It didn't taste right to Harry's ear, but it was exactly what he wanted to hear and believe. As Ron stood up, Harry rushed over to him and kissed him desperately on the lips, wrapping his arms around Ron's silky back.

For several minutes, they kissed and when it ended both of them knew it was over, but Harry didn't want to believe it, and Ron chose to ignore it. All the love, passion, and fire were gone from their relationship. Now it felt sanitary.

Now it was about responsibility.

&

For a second Hermione considered following Ron in case he hurt himself, but she knew he would flee to Harry, who would protect his lover, no matter what.

Sauntering through the halls of Hogwarts, Hermione wished that she felt some sort of guilt for any of her actions. From kissing Ron to protesting the Lottery, all of it was justified in her mind. She hated it. She had used Ron, disrespected Harry's friendship, and would do it all again in a heartbeat.

She did it all for the sake of revolution. So that the girl in the alley wouldn't have to hide anymore, so that when Ron finally found his soul mate he could love her openly.

Hermione pulled a small vial from her pocket, wishing she could just smash it against the wall. It wouldn't help, of course. In Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, there was a whole simmering cauldron of love potion, weakened so that Hermione wouldn't entirely lose her mind when she drank it.

Infused with it were three strands of Ron's hair, her secret weapon, her queen in this oversized game of chess.

&


End file.
